Say Hello To Cloudy Weather

"True Life" is one of the few remaining shows on MTV that's actually engaging. It's interesting to watch because it's not typical reality television, mainly because it's actual reality. The people are real and so are their problems. Although, there are some I couldn't care less about. I'd rather not spend an hour of my life watching "True Life: I'm in a summer romance" or "True Life: I live on the Jersey Shore." I like watching documentaries on people whose lives are radically different from my own, not that I've ever had a summer romance or lived on the Jersey Shore. One was about three girls with shopping addictions. Another was about people living with severe OCD. The most interesting to date, though, is a tie between "True Life: I have Tourette's" and "True Life: I work in the porn industry." There was a True Life marathon on yesterday. I sat on my bed eating Panda Express, soaking in the laziness of the Sunday afternoon and eagerly viewing the previews for episodes of the new season of True Life, which includes, most dramatically, "True Life: I need a transplant." You wanna know what's true life? My obsession with this series.

The truth is, it's officially spring break, and 95% of my friends are in New York for a week-long workshop called OCU NYC. I'm partying it up on campus... by myself. I drove three of my friends to the airport this weekend. That number would've been four, but one of the girls going to OCU NYC got sick and had to cancel her flight because she was in the ER. But that's just ONE of the horror stories spewing forth from the text messages of all my friends who've hopped planes to NYC for spring break. Everyone one of them have either experienced lost luggage, cancelled flights, inappropriate airport goers looking at pictures of their seminude boyfriends on their phones, or a combination of the three. Thankfully, I'm in my dorm room enjoying the benefits of long-awaited solitude: blaring music as loudly as possible, feeling free to be as naked as possible (can one be more or less naked?), and just reveling in the fact that I don't have a roommate for an entire week.

Alice in Wonderland wasn't nearly as exciting as I thought it'd be. 3D helped somewhat, but when it comes right down to it, bad acting is just bad acting. Anne Hathaway gave an odd performance, which seems suitable for a movie like Tim Burton's freaky rendition of Alice in Wonderland, but it was odd in an unintentional way. She was inconsistently funny but terribly consistent with her bad character choices. All in all though, the movie was visually stunning and altogether magical. Who doesn't love a good colorful movie? Take "Avatar" for instance. Case and point.

Jason Derulo Is Hiding In The Cafeteria. I Knew It.

As the entire world watched the Oscars last night, I practiced piano and went to the gym. How strange that I decided to do something productive instead. Actually, that doesn't surprise me, because I'm not particularly enamored with awards shows. The Oscars, Grammys, Tonys, etc... They don't really interest me as much as they apparently interest everyone else. I don't mind not knowing which movie won Best Picture for 2009 or who snagged the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress in a Romantic Comedy. Is that even a category? I'm so out of the loop, I thought the Academy Awards and the Oscars were two separate ceremonies.

About a week ago, the cafeteria served midnight breakfast as a gimmick for midterm studying, which no one was doing at the time since midterms weren't until the following week. Shakira and Ke$ha blared over the already noisy cluster of students from speakers whose origin I'm still trying to discover. Why don't they play music all the time in the caf? It makes for a brighter atmosphere, in my opinion. There are two tvs, but one is usually off, and the other is usually too quiet to hear. So basically, as we eat, we get to watch either a blank screen or muted cartoons.

The winter Olympics are over, thank goodness. I was kind of sick of seeing endless figure skating routines on the tvs in the gym for two weeks straight. Canada won in hockey, which just goes to show you: You can't beat someone at a sport they invented. Quatchi will forever be in the hearts of millions of adoring fans, as well as my bed, where a miniature stuffed replica of the mascot sasquatch currently resides. We can all go back to our comparatively mundane existences, where people don't fly down icy luges at high speeds on a regular basis or nail triple axel twists with half turn leaps.

Rainy Monday? Check. Music theory cancelled on Friday? Check. Now all this week needs is a little disco and all will be in order.